


After the Night

by latenightrambles



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, happy-ish ending, probably not cannon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latenightrambles/pseuds/latenightrambles
Summary: After the Long Night, more than just things need to be repaired.





	1. Chapter 1

She stood against the wooden railings, letting the wind blow her red hair wildly. Below, men were carrying tools and supplies. Work was still needed, seemed to be always needed, to repair the once great Winterfell.

"Lady Stark."

She turned and forced a brief smile.

"Lord Lannister."

"Please, I told you once to call me Tyrion."

She nodded and turned back toward the yard. She had hoped here she would be left alone. Exhaustion had pressed dark circles under her eyes, and she had no energy for prying questions. Not today.

Tyrion stood next to her in silence. How odd it seemed, she thought. She had remembered him always talking, always trying to find something to say to her. And now he was silent. She wondered if he had finally learned to bite his tongue, or if he had simply run out of things to say.

"You're still here," her voice edged with annoyance. "I assume you want something, Lord Lannister."

Tyrion winced, then glanced up to see if she was looking at him. With her face still firmly aimed at the workers below, he let out a small sigh.

"We haven't had a chance to talk since," he paused and glanced at her again, "well, with the war going on. I wanted to say, I'm sorry."

"For what, my Lord?"

She stood stiffly next to him, her cloak pulled tightly around her body. He knew she didn't want to talk to him, didn't want to see him.

"For everything," he whispered.

For a moment, he thought she would speak. Then her face returned to the hardened stare it had before. Nodding, Tyrion turned and began to walk away.

"My Lord?"

Tyrion stopped. He pulled his shoulders back and closed his eyes. She hated him, of course. And he could not blame her for it. Whatever she had to say, she had earned the right a thousand times.

"How long will you be staying here?"

The question felt like a slap in his face. He had tried, until now, to avoid her. He had made an effort to only be in the same room as her when it was necessary. Even that was too much. He would have preferred insults, at least those he had learned to accept. They were always better than rejection. 

"I do not yet know, my Lady. For as long as I am told to, I suppose. I can," he cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder toward her, "find accommodations elsewhere if need be."

"You are a guest here, there is no need to leave."

She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. A faint smile caught at the corners of her lips.

"You helped bring him home, alive. Where he belongs. Thank you, Tyrion."

She watched from the railing as Tyrion made his way across the yard, stopping only to look up in her direction before entering the building. Below, the workers were sawing through wooden planks, shouting at each other to move faster. Sansa closed her eyes and listened to the noises below. There was always more work to be done, more things to rebuild and fix. Despite all the horrors and war, with work things could always be repaired.


	2. Sisters

"The imp is still here."

Sansa put down her quill and rubbed her eyes. 

"Don't call him that. Lord Lannister is a guest..."

"I could kill him. I could make it look like an accident, no one would ever know."

Sansa turned quickly and stared at Arya. She wasn't smiling like she usually did when she talked about murder. She still looked like Arya, talked like her and joked like her. But to Sansa, she was often more wild dog than girl. No, wild wolf. With a sigh, Sansa turned back to the letters piled on her table. A part of her had hoped that now, after everything was over, things would return to what they had been. It was a silly wish, one the old her would have made. 

"He is a guest here, and you will treat him as such."

"You don't."

Sansa sighed. "I don't have time to argue right now. I have to finish writing then see about the remaining food stores."

Suddenly Arya was next to her, arms wrapped around Sansa's shoulders. Sansa relaxed and leaned her head against Arya. The smells of smoke and dirt and polish clung to her.

"It bothers you that he's here, I can see it in your eyes. He's a Lannister."

Sansa turned her head slightly to bury her face in her sister's hair. Father. That's what those scents reminded her of. The smell of father after a long day, when he would come in and hug her and ask how her studies had been. 

"He doesn't bother me. He's not even half what the other Lannisters were." Sansa's cheeks turned red. "I mean, he is far less cruel. He tried to be kind. And he helped Jon, that alone is enough to make him an honored guest."

Arya nodded her head against Sansa's shoulder then gave her a tight squeeze. 

"Come to the yard. Your letter can wait, I'm going to be sparing with some of the men."

Sansa smiled. "Did Jon tell you to do that?"

"No, but they need to learn. And I need the practice."

"Alright. Just for a little while."

Arya stood up, a wide grin stretched across her face. "The stable master's son said he wouldn't fight a girl. I'm looking forward to seeing what he can do."

"Arya," Sansa frowned, "you can't kill him either."

She turned and nearly skipped out the door. Sansa stood and slowly walked behind her. She could almost hear her mother calling out, telling Arya not to run like a wild animal, pointing out how Sansa walked like a lady. 

So much had changed in them over the years. But, maybe, there were still some parts of their old selves left.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a romantic Sansa/Tyrion shipper, but I do think they could be friends. I think they'd be great friends. So, probably not going to be any romance/smut going on here.


End file.
